Shar managed a feeble laugh, then leaned back and flipped on the TV, a wide-screen plasma monstrosity that almost covered the wall. We had one in every room, even the bathroom. I wasn’t shocked to find that there was a seemingly endless collection of DVDs to go with them, but what was surprising was that Shar liked the same films I was into—pretty much anything with corsets, buff vampires, and bad-ass action heroes.
I got up and rummaged through my bag for the necessities I’d packed before I left home.
“What are you doing?” Shar asked as I pulled out a meat mallet from a kitchen drawer.
“Mmmmf,” I mumbled, my mouth holding a tack. I took it out and banged it into the wall, then hung up a little mirror with a bright yellow frame.
“This is useless,” she said, coming over and trying to see her reflection. “It doesn’t go with the furniture, and it’s ugly!”
“It’s not meant to be pretty or used for checking eyeliner. It’s a feng shui mirror. Hades’ juju is in every corner of this place. You might not feel it, but I do.”
She rolled her eyes and yanked the mallet out of my hand. “No more paranormal babble—”
“It’s not babble! It’s a—”
“Science, I know,” she finished my sentence for me as I fixed her with an annoyed stare. “Do you have to hang things on the wall to feng-schweng this place?”
“Feng shui.” I paused for a minute to think. “I could bring in a life element—”
“So buy a house plant. Oooh!” Shar grinned suddenly. “Why don’t we do some serious damage to those credit cards?”
Against my instincts, five minutes later we were back outside and making our way to the department stores.
“Wait.” I grabbed her arm, stopping her short. “First things first.” I turned her around and steered her into a small coffee shop we’d passed by.
“A chai,” she whispered in my ear, as the wreath on the door jingled when it slammed shut behind us.
I gave her a blistering look. “I know. Get a table.” I sauntered up to the counter and excused myself to a man in a sharp suit who was still checking the menu, thinking, geez, if you’re not ready to order, let me go first. He backed up a step. Smiling at the guy at the register, a sandy-haired grad-student type in a goofy Santa hat, I ordered, hoping he’d get it right. “Give me one large chai tea and one double mocha latte with skim milk, no whipped cream, please.”
He stared at me and grinned.
“Um … ” I said after a few moments, wondering when he was going to ring me up. “Can I get—”
“A large chai, and a double mocha love with skim.” He cut me off in a dreamy monotone, then flung his head so that the pompom on his hat flicked back.
“Are you okay?” I asked, waving a hand in front of his face, thinking, is he high? I thought places like this had drug-testing policies.
“Sure.” He continued to grin at me.
I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned to see a portly woman with velociraptor-length acrylic nails. Tiny reindeer were painted on them. She crossed her brawny arms over her huge and heaving chest and raised an over-penciled eyebrow at me.
“Can you place your order? I’m in a hurry!”
“I did!” I snapped, then turned back to Elf Boy, who had finally started entering my drinks into the register.
“How much is that?” I asked, taking out my wallet.
“I’m giving you our special discount, so you don’t—”
“I’ll take care of that!” Sharp Suit pushed past Dino Woman and whipped out a billfold.
“Hey!” she shouted, but a few more men stepped in front of her.
“There’s no need.” Elf Boy eyeballed Sharp Suit with a menacing expression. “I was about to say that she doesn’t owe me anything.”
“That’s okay,” I said firmly, tapping the counter and drawing their attention away from each other. “I can pay for my own drinks. Here.” I handed him a $20. “Please put the rest in the tip jar.”
I stepped aside and headed quickly for the coffee bar. The barista, a slim pony-tailed blond girl with a lip piercing, looked at me, then peered down the length of the counter. The line was starting to snake around the shop. Alarmed, she darted over to the register. I heard some angry whispers, and then she came back, shaking her head.
“I’m so sorry. What was your order?”
I was too confused to be annoyed. Elf Boy had gone back to work and was waiting on Dino Woman, but he kept glancing my way. That I could tolerate, but not Sharp Suit, who waved and blew a kiss at me—he was old enough to be my dad! A guy next to me, also waiting for his order, caught my eye, and I mumbled, “Please save me from the weirdo convention that’s come to town.” What was wrong with these people?
I turned back to the barista.
“One large chai and a double mocha latte with skim, please.”
“Coming up.” She smiled, obviously relieved that I wasn’t going to be difficult. Then she looked back at Elf Boy and rolled her eyes. “Men,” she grumbled.
Cups finally in hand, I sashayed over to Shar, but my springy step died when I saw her. She sat, posed at the table, her long legs crossed and her slender fingers twisting her wavy blond locks. Her eyes flicked upwards toward the ceiling or down to the floor, but never at the tables around her—which were filled with guys of all ages. They were staring at her, drooly grins on their faces.
“Shar?” I whispered, standing there. “What’s going on?” I jerked my head as subtly as I could at the growing entourage.
“I was just sitting here, and they started crowding around!” she said in a low voice. “What about him?” She pointed to something behind me. It was Sharp Suit, pushing his way through the now-crowded shop as he eyed our table.
“He offered to pay for our drinks,” I said, “but I have no idea who he is!”
“And him?” She jerked her head at someone standing behind me.
“I’m here to save you!” he gushed.
“We’d better go,” Shar said, quickly getting up to leave. A few of the guys around us got up. It was too much.
“Please, leave us alone!” I said loudly. Several of the men sat back down as we hustled out the door, Shar giving one last glance back. When we were a few blocks away, we ducked into the recess of a closed docking bay.
“What happened back there?” she asked, breathless from our fast pace.
All I could do was hold up the palm of my free hand in confusion. Elf Boy was definitely in an altered state, but the others? Whatever it was, there had to be a logical explanation.
“Come on,” Shar said. “I need some retail therapy to calm my nerves.” She stepped out onto the sidewalk and I followed her. All seemed normal; people streamed around us, the usual pedestrian foot traffic. “We’ll go to Bendel’s first.” She grinned at me. “They have this eco-friendly bath line that even you can’t diss.”
“Watch me,” I chuckled, but the laughter died on my lips as a few guys turned their heads to look at us. We hurried along, and didn’t stop until we reached the department store. We passed through the heavy doors and around the sparkling cases filled with rainbow-hued displays of leather gloves and overpriced hair accessories. Shar paused to look at a crystal-encrusted evening bag and waved down a sales person.
“Where are you ever going to use something like that?” I asked, but she ignored me and started chatting up the saleswoman, who took forever to unlock the case. Bored with waiting for her, my eyes started to wander around the vast atrium. I followed the line of tasteful garland, twisted with anti-holiday shades of slate gray and purple ribbon, around the ceiling to where it culminated in an elegant display over the main doors. Then I froze. When I could force myself to move, I groped for Shar’s arm and clutched it fiercely.
“Wait a sec! Can’t you see I’m—”
She stopped dead. Four or five guys from the coffee shop, including Elf Boy carrying two sloshing cups, had arrived, along with at least one man who I thought passed us when we were in the docking bay, and one or two I know we saw on the street. They were milling around the cases, slowly moving toward us.
“They weren’t following us!” squeaked Shar, terrified. “I looked back!”
“There you are!” a male voice boomed. It was Sharp Suit. Shar blinked at him, like a rat taken by surprise when the dumpster’s opened. “Do you like that bag?” He snatched it out of the saleswoman’s hands. “Please, allow me.” Out came the billfold.
“No!” another shouted. “I’ll get it! And how about these earrings? Do you like these?”
“What do you want to do, buy us everything?!” I shouted. They froze and gaped at me for three long seconds, then ran around wildly, grabbing every black thing they could lay their hands on and throwing them at my feet. More wallets came out.
“You want me to get that for you, don’t you?” A cute guy about our age fell to his knees in front of me.
I smiled at him, liking the dimple in his chin and the way his messy blond bangs brushed his lashes. He had such a sweet face. Then I came to my senses. “Uh. It’s just that—”
“She wants me!” Cutie Face suddenly snarled, glaring at the men crowding around us. “It’s me she wants to be with. Back off!”
“Stupid punk kid!” A construction worker pulled Cutie Face up from the floor by his collar and cocked his arm back as if to hit him.
“Stop!” I screamed.
Construction Guy dropped his prey onto the floor. “Anything for you, sweetheart.”
In a flash, Cutie Face threw himself at the brawny older man and started swinging. Others joined in. Soon the whole male population was brawling, and it was spreading to the upper level of the store. Pink and black garments of all types rained down on us, and more men on the spiral staircase pushed and shoved, trying to get down to pay for it all.
“This is crazy!” Shar cowered against me as a pink nightie fluttered down from above. The female clerks and the few other customers were screaming. Shar had her hands over her ears.
Suddenly, my purse vibrated wildly—but it wasn’t my cell. I dug around inside and pulled out the iPhone, its screen glowing scarlet. On it, I read:
To stop the thrall, just give a call:
Ase me isihi!
I passed it to Shar just as two guys slammed into the case next to us, shattering the glass. I gasped, and both of us jumped back and stared at them in horror. Now security guards were running toward us, but instead of grabbing the men on the floor, they started loading their arms with clothes and waving them at us.
“What does that mean, ase me isihi?” I hissed. The guy closest to us stopped short, a disoriented look in his eyes.
“Why am I here?” he asked. “I’m late for a meeting.” He dropped his bundle, turned, and hurried off.
“Whatever it means, it stopped him,” Shar said, excitement building in her voice. “Wait, that’s it! We’ve used the gifts!”
“We have not!” I retorted sharply, stepping out of the way of two grappling Wall Street types. “All we did was—” I stopped, a nasty realization clawing at my brain.
“Talk to people and look at them,” Shar said grimly. Then, reading the iPhone again, she nodded at me. I reread the words.
“One, two, three,” she counted, and then together we shouted, “Ase me isihi ! ”
The store was suddenly quiet except for the steady hum of background music. Slowly, people started moving. Men got up from the floor, dusted themselves off, and headed for the doors.
“It worked!” I whispered, relieved.
“What’s going on here?” one of the security guards barked. He looked suspiciously from person to person. Men shook their heads. When his gaze caught the tiger-print thong clutched in his own left hand, he blushed furiously and hastily dropped it.
“They just went insane!” Shar’s saleswoman sobbed, coming out from her hiding place behind the counter. There were bits of broken glass in her hair.
The guard turned to us. “Tell me what happened.”
“Uh … ” Shar examined her shoes. “I … we … were over there getting ready to pay and they started grabbing and throwing everything in sight.”
While he looked around, I whispered, “Let’s buy something, it’ll look less suspicious. Then we can leave.” I grabbed a stack of black stuff. Shar did the same with a pink pile. I looked hopefully at the still-frazzled saleswoman, then jerked my head in the direction of an unsmashed counter. She nodded and made her way over, glass crunching under her feet as she went.
We followed at a quick pace; I wanted us out of there before someone called the police.
“Will that be cash or charge?” the woman asked.
“Charge.” Without looking at her, Shar slipped Hades’ shiny black Visa card out of her wallet and slid it across the counter. When the woman picked it up, I saw the image on the hologram sticker—Hades in a skimpy toga. Not something I needed or wanted to see. We ended up carrying out three bags each, and I didn’t bother asking Shar what the bill came to. Hades’ nasty ID was disturbing enough.
Once out in the fresh air, reality set in. This was going to be a lot harder than we thought, and I was starving.
“I need food,” I said. It was nearly two o’clock, and so far we’d only had the almost-disastrous coffee.
“Me too,” she said. “Hey, we’re right by Red Velvet!” She all but clapped her hands.
“As in cake? Sorry, but I’m going to need something more substantial after that.”
“They serve everything. Come on.”
“I really don’t want to deal with anyone else,” I whined. “Can’t we just go back to the apartment and get take-out?”
“I think I know how this works,” Shar assured me. “We’ll be smart about it. I’ll talk but not look, you be charming but silent. And if we run into trouble, we’ll say that isihi whatever.”
Ignoring my protests, she ushered me down the street, keeping her eyes lowered. After a block or so, I spied Red Velvet’s scarlet awning jutting out stiffly from the side of the building. When I stepped into the richly dark vestibule of the lobby, I found myself staring into a Victorian armoire. Its back-lit shelves were crammed with chocolate sculpted into Victorian winter-themed shapes; a furry boot with a curvy heel, cherubs surrounded by holly. Let Them Eat Cake snaked over the door in scripty gilt letters and the tantalizing scent of comfort food—roast turkey, mashed potatoes, fresh baked bread, and chocolate—filled the tiny space.
“You do all the talking,” I reminded Shar.
She nodded, and laying a well manicured hand on the richly embossed brass door, swung it open and strolled inside.
A bird-sized woman stood behind a heavily carved and highly polished podium suitable for an archbishop, reading. Her black hair was drawn tightly away from her face and pulled her features into a haughty and unbecoming expression.
“Excuse me,” Shar began. “A table for two, please.”
“Do you have a reservation?” The hostess never looked up from her podium. Her voice matched her Kewpie-doll appearance—soft and squeaky.
“No, but there’s room,” Shar answered confidently, staring at the woman’s face. You’re not supposed to do that! What if she looks up? I poked her, but she waved me off behind her back.
Doll-face looked up and smiled smugly. “We’re full up, I’m afraid. Unless you have a reservation.”
Undeterred, Shar glanced at the dark and sparsely populated dining area. Only two tables were occupied.
“There are several empty tables and there doesn’t seem …”
Now Doll-face looked very irritated. “We have nothing available. I suggest y
ou call and make a reservation for another afternoon. We require at least 24 hours notice.” She gave Shar a snide smile and resumed reading.
She was finished with us, but Shar wasn’t done. She pulled me forward, her long fingers digging into my arm, a commanding look in her eye: she wanted me to try.
I coughed, and Dolly raised her head, and I said slowly, “Are you sure you can’t seat us?”
“No,” she replied coldly. “Is there anything else?”
“And there you have it,” I said to Shar, and turned to leave.
“But—” Shar started.
“The manager can explain our policy if you need further clarification,” Dolly said icily.
“That won’t be necessary.” I grabbed Shar’s hand and steered her to the door. This time she complied.
“What happened back there?” she seethed fifteen minutes later when we were safely tucked into a booth at a quiet burger place. She’d managed to avoid eye contact while she ordered for both of us. There are times when only greasy fast food will kill the gall of being snubbed, especially by a half-starved, doll-faced tart.
I shrugged. “I don’t know. She loved us not?”
“That’s not supposed to happen. All those guys were ready to throw themselves off buildings for us.”
I pointed at her with a French fry. “But not the hostess girl. Think about it. The barista wasn’t affected by us, and neither was the saleswoman at Bendel’s.”
“You’re right!” Shar lit up. “Great! I can still get my bikini wax! Oh … wait.” She slammed down her diet soda. “Meg, we have to interact with guys.”
I nodded thoughtfully, then brightened. “You can wear sunglasses—then no one will be able to see your eyes!”
Shar beamed at me, but her smile faded quickly. “But what about you? How are you going to get out of talking?”
“Learn sign language?”
“Cute. No time.”
A guy jived by our table, headphones in his ears. I dug in my purse and pulled out my iPod.
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